


IT short stories/AU things

by Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen/pseuds/Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen
Summary: I think I'm starting to remember how to use this site...idk lol be patient please
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. He's funny like that

**Author's Note:**

> The only Losers left in Derry are Bill, Stan, and Mike. They've all reached the awful teenage year of sixteen (except Stan I guess, he's catching up). Bill and Stan bond a little while Mike is out being a super cool dude.
> 
> BILL'S POV
> 
> also check comments I did leave something there that is important

I never thought the town would be so empty. It's just me and Stan and Mike. The others moved away, and we all miss each other. We call sometimes, and it's all good. Yeah. All good. It's night and I don't even know what time it is. I lean over and check my clock, it reads 12:50. That's nice...why am I awake this late? Or rather, early? I rub my face and let out a long sigh. I lean over and open my window to get fresh air in, it's been a long time since I've had some. I've been more or less cooped up in my house. Mike stops by sometimes, he's doing so good for himself. He drives a motorcycle now, and that's coolest shit I've ever seen. The air is humid, I know it's gonna rain soon. God, I HATE humidity. Have I ever mentioned that? Stan calls it "heavy air", and yeah, he's right. I don't need any "heavy air". I'm starting to think of him now, and maybe I should go visit him. He's all alone, his parents are out doing some Jewish thing. I know his parents love him to death, so when he expressed his feelings about not wanting to go, they trusted him to stay home. It's only for a few days anyway, he'll be fine. But he's alone, and I feel lonely, so I'm gonna go visit him. 

I could easily walk out the front door with no questions. My parents stopped caring what I did after Georgie died. I guess that's good for me, I can do whatever I fucking want. I thought about going through the window just to have that rush of sneaking out when I'm not supposed to, but I know it would be fake. It's an experience I'll never have, going somewhere I'm not supposed to be going. I could tell my parents I'm going to Japan on foot right then, and they'd nod and say "alright then". Not even an "be back for dinner" or "be safe". Just a plain, solid, "fine then". It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. People would kill to have their parents not give a shit where they went. I'd kill to trade that experience. It wouldn't be so bad for them because they didn't grow up with it. I shouldn't be so fucking bitter, I know that. So I'm gonna just put it behind me and get the fuck out. I need it, you know.

I tied the sleeves of a coat around my waist in case it would rain before I got there. My parents were still awake as I went to the door. Before I could open it I heard my father ask me, "Bill. Where are you going?"  
"I'm not taking the car so don't worry. Just going to walk to Stan's."  
I heard him grunt in what I'd like to believe was approval. I took pride in that, and I'll be damned if I'm letting it go. My dad never made that sort of gesture towards me, EVER. Not anymore. Before I went I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and clumsily stuffed it into the pocket of the jacket, opening the door and jogging out. I know they wouldn't care that I had them, but I still don't want them to see. That's part of wanting parents approval I guess, not wanting them to see you do BAD things like they think you do. Because yr a BAD person. And that's why they don't love you anymore. I was beginning to very indifferent to that. That's good on me, I don't need them. They feed me and give me a place to stay. It's better than being on the street starving to death, getting some disease and dying. I giggled to myself thinking about that...I didn't want to become Eddie's leper. 

I finally reached Stan's house. I know he keeps the doors locked, it's like he's afraid of someone breaking in. But who would? Bowers? I doubt it. I noticed Bowers never really picked on Stanley. I remember once, that pig-headed bastard, he stared down Stanley like he did all of us. But Stan met his gaze with such a calm indifference I saw Bowers start to look uncomfortable. And then he looked like he just seen the devil, and for once HE looked away. I've asked about that, but Stan would always just shrug his shoulders. He wouldn't put a comment in about it. He's funny like that, you know. I think I like him so much because he's funny like that. I took a cigarette from my pocket but realized I didn't have a lighter. I frowned, but it was whatever. I shoved the cigarette back into the pocket and walked up the driveway. I got an idea-a funny idea, really-that since I couldn't sneak out of my own house I could sneak into his. Well, not really. I'd go up to his window and knock like we were in some shitty rom-com, and it would be so fucking funny I'd laugh so hard and fall off the damn house and break my spinal cord. Okay, maybe not, but it would still be kinda funny. 

I climbed up after some effort, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. I sat on the ledge where his window was, and knocked on it. For a while there wasn't a response, and it scared me. Yeah, that scared me a lot. He was probably asleep, god, I'm a fucking idiot! Of course he would be asleep! I leaned my head on the window, letting out a heavy sigh. Just then the curtains moved and then the window, scaring the shit out of me. Lucky I didn't fall and break my back like I thought about minutes prior. Although this way it wouldn't be funny, it would just be sad and unfortunate. Glad I didn't fall down. Stan gave me an amused look, leaning on the windowsill.  
"Bill," He said, looking over me still panting like I'd run an Olympic marathon, "do you know what time it is?"  
I'd just nodded at him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I just...I woke up. Recently. And I was thinking about you and how yr all alone here."  
Stan rested his face in his hand, that amused look not yet leaving his face. He has a really pretty smile you know, I could stare at it for days. A ray of sunshine in my little shitty hovel on the waterfront. 

"It's humid out, come in before you start sweating. That's nasty as hell you know." Stan backed up from the window and sat down on his bed. It was right up against the wall with the window, how convenient for talking to someone who climbed like an ape on crack to get to yr window when he could have just...I don't know...knocked on the front door? I climbed in though without saying that and shut the window. His bed was soft and clean, and it was nice to sit on. We sat next to each other in a long, but comfortable silence. You know when I was little I thought I was crushing hard on Beverly, and maybe I was, but that was in the past. Not that I had anyone to tell about my new man-crush except Mike, but I feel like he doesn't really care to hear it. Stan had his hands folded in his lap, and he turned to face me. "Do you remember when we first met?" He asked suddenly. I didn't really know what to say, I mean...I DID remember. "It's funny you mention that, heh...Yr probably thinking of the first time we actually talked." 

Stan shifted his whole body to face me now. "Would you tell me about that...?" He asked, the question feeling like it lingered for a long time. I felt embarrassed, I don't know why I'd even mentioned it. Of course he'd ask! Oh well, I guess we can laugh about it when I'm done telling him. I really did need to laugh right about now. "Right...we were little. Like REALLY little. That playground. You remember it? The little shitty one with just the swings and the slide and that weird yellow thing that moved when you jumped on it?" Stan nodded at me, inching a little closer. Deaf, are you...? No, he's just interested. He does that when he's listening, move closer to you. He's funny like that. 

"Well I remember I saw you there first. You were on that yellow thing, you had a little notebook and would write in it. I liked playing on the swings. Mom told me that I should be making friends, and that day it was just me and you. But I couldn't gather the courage to go and say anything." I let myself sigh, but I felt a smile crossing my lips. "You had such pretty long hair. Being a little kid I just wanted to touch it. My dumbass kid brain thought it was like a horse's mane. I probably would have dropped dead right then if I asked you if I could feel it and you said yes." I was beginning to think my little crush has been around for longer than I thought. I could blame it on me being a fucking idiot little kid for sure, but I knew the truth. Yeah, I did, but he didn't. He didn't have to know. "And the first time I'd actually seen yr face. Yr nose was crooked. I wondered why for so long, and I thought..." Well, I thought it was cute. My knight in shining armor had long pretty hair and a terribly crooked nose, where it was broken at the nose bridge. It's still crooked, I know why now. He broke it, and it was too badly broken to be set. "I thought you...yuh-you...lo-uh-oked...very u-unique." Damn! I haven't stuttered in years! Oh well, it's not like Stan had never heard me do it before. 

His forest green eyes had a strange look in them. It was an emotion I couldn't really read, but I didn't feel threatened. Just...curious as to what he was thinking. He seemed to be urging me to go on though, so I did. "Everyday I went to that playground and you were there. And I juh-just...wanted to...see yr fuh-face again..." I kind of trailed off. I didn't like lying to Stan, it's like he always knew when I was. "I mean I really wanted to be friends since I didn't have any." I said quickly, trying to cover myself up. That wasn't a lie anyway, I did want to be his friend. I just wanted to be more than that as well. Of course, me being a kid I didn't know that's what I wanted, so it was still mostly true. Yeah. It really really was. 

"And I wondered everyday what you were writing in that book. And I wanted to be yr friend more than ah-anything. And thu-then at the Secondhand Rose...wuh-when you were buh-buying that ring...I had the extra dollars on me. I thu-thought that...if I dih-didn't know how to talk to you to muh-make you my friend...I would juh-just...have to...show you..." I felt my cheeks burning. It was a mixture of embarrassment and just plain crushing on him, but you know. He didn't have to know. Stan had a very sympathetic look in his eyes, and then he pulled me into his arms. It was a nice feeling, honestly. He was warm and smelled oddly of lavender and mint. What I'd give to just stay like this my whole life. 

"I know you did. It was very nice of you to do that. I felt very grateful that you had helped me out. Actions can be greater than words..." He mumbled to me. I'd started to wonder why he'd even asked me about this in the first place. He always asked about weird stuff like that, but I felt like this had surprised me. "Why did you ask about this...?" I finally asked him, because, well...I wanted to know. I felt him shrug. "I was always curious about whether you remembered or not." Stan had such an interesting voice. It sounded constantly flat but somehow held all sorts of emotion. He's...funny...like that. 

I felt like I could just tell him everything. Like I could say I'd just committed mass homicide and he'd just nod and rub his thumbs against my shoulder blades in that soft, comforting way of his. That'd be nice. Maybe I could tell him. I guess I didn't really have anything to loose- Everyone moves out of Derry, and he'd be gone and I'd live with wondering what would happen if I'd told him. "Stan..." I mumbled, pushing my face into his shoulder, "uh...I um..." I paused. I didn't really know how to say it. I just wanted to stay there a little longer and feel him against me, because for all I know it could be the last time he'd ever do it. 

After another long silence, I did my best to just spit it out. "I love you Stan. Like....um...I'm...IN love....with you." I buried my face into the crook of his neck almost instinctively, as if he was going to protect me from his own reaction. He pulled away slowly, and I felt like my heart had just stopped all together. Oh god, please say something like "yr just kidding right"? Oh please, then I can save myself the embarrassment. You know I want to be an actor and write books. Oh god, please just say that instead of telling me to get out of yr house. My acting career is coming along nicely, eh? Right? 

Stan locked his gaze with my own. He didn't really look mad, he didn't look disgusted. If anything he just looked confused. I had hope for myself that I could cover it up, oh, there's a god and he loves me! But he just blinked. "So...that's true then." He put his hand on my face. "Oh. Ohhhhh. And you kept that to yrself for years." I felt like I was going to cry. Full on burst out into gross sobbing. Is he...mocking me? I'd rather him throw me out the fucking window and fatally injure me than this! I squirmed uncomfortably in his bed, gripping my jeans so tight I was basically still digging my nails into my palms. But then he took both of my hands into his. 

"I see that look. I'm sorry." He frowned. "I'm not mocking you, I promise." He looked down at our locked hands, pursing his lips. "I think..." And before I he could finish I cut him off. Yeah, now I'm crying. I'm sorry Stan, it's not yr fault. I think I would have rather lived in suspense my whole life, now that I think about it. "I'll go. Yeh-yeah. Uh. I'll...go." I didn't really want to take my hands from his, and as I was about to just slip my fingers out from his he tightened his grip. He smiled a little looking down at our hands. "Oh...there's an old saying...Yr hands fit perfectly in mine..." He leaned closer to me, our hands still holding each others. "I don't want you to go, Bill." 

It felt like there was a lump in my throat. Maybe...there was still a god and he loves me? I swallowed hard, nodding. "I don't...wuh-wanna go either..." We let our hands from each others and just held each other again. I'd never actually been in a relationship before, I didn't really know how it worked. Shitty old Derry didn't have much options, and it was hard to think about love when just a few summers before me and my ragtag group of friends beat the shit out of an extraterrestrial clown that may or may not have actually been a spider and that spider may or may not have just been three glowing orbs...that and because Stan was the only one on my mind when it came to romance. 

I felt him shift a little, his own unease getting to him. I felt nervous again and sat back to look at him. "Did I...already fuck something up?" I asked, but I felt myself smiling again. He just looked at me with his lost little expression, totally confused. "No. I'm just thinking. Um....do we...kiss now?" He fidgeted nervously, his hands clasped together. He ran his thumbs over each other rapidly, I was shocked by how fast he could move his fingers but more importantly worried that he'd end up breaking one. "Stan," I said, placing my own hands over his, "I...don't know?" 

And then we both laughed. We'd figure it out. But for tonight we'd stay together and sleep in the same bed. It's funny, actually, we used to sleep in the same bed when he slept over when we were little. Or well, little-er. It felt better than before when we did. Because now we were holding each other and it was nice. I could push my whole body against his and it wouldn't be weird. Not anymore. Yeah, that's a nice feeling. And he pushed his body up on mine. Yeah....

He's funny like that.


	2. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan gives Henry a crisis. 
> 
> THIRD PERSON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I think I'm figuring it out again. Be patient with me please if you like how I write. Short chapter tonite. If you want me to write about something put it in the comments and if I can work with it I'll go ahead and write it. Thanks guys <3

Stanley Uris had been sitting in the barrens for about thirty minutes now. He had his little notebook and a shard of glass he'd found. That was a special shard of glass you see, that glass would show him the future of anyone who it was lifted to. There were rumours of this of course, but who would believe that? Well, Henry Bowers had certainly heard of this, and he was going to find out for himself. _Lets see what MY future holds_ , he would say in his own mind. Of course he'd come to the only person who seemingly possessed this ability. A rustling in the bushes let Stan know that someone was there. He looked up from his notebook and saw the one and only Henry Bowers of course, so he shut his notebook and pocketed it. Henry trotted up to him with the smuggest looking grin he'd ever seen, but he didn't let that faze him. 

Stan blinked. Henry stood in front of him with his arms crossed, his gaze burning into the other boy. "I know something about you. Some rumours. Yeah? You wanna tell me about that?" Stan raised a brow and leaned back. There were all sorts of rumours about him, and he wasn't afraid of Bowers. "Yeah I'll tell you about it. But yr gonna have to _specify_." He kept the same cool look as always; not smug but more or less unamused. Bowers snorted, tightening his grip on his forearms. "The one where you can SUPPOSEDLY tell the future! The only one that means anything!?" He shouted, but Stan still didn't look that intimidated. He just kind of made an _oh_ sound, then beckoned Henry to sit. He did, although reluctantly. 

Stan produced the piece of glass. It was a perfect triangle, what a nice find. Too bad Henry couldn't appreciate it. Stan held it up to Bowers and closed an eye, staring for quite a while. "Hmmph." He said, taking the shard from his eye. "So you really wanna know what's gonna happen to you." He asked, his tone almost daring. Of course Henry almost went ape about that, but maybe it would be worth it. "The _real_ truth, jew. Tell me the REAL TRUTH!" Bowers bellowed, looking more agitated than ever. Of course Stan didn't react to the irritation at all and instead pushed Bowers down and held him in place, with some sort of strength that shouldn't ever be possible to have for such a skinny boy. Stan pulled up Henry's shirt and dragged the shard of glass right about where the diaphragm is. The cut wasn't extremely deep but it stung like a motherfucker, and Henry was squirming to get out of Stan's grasp. He pulled away, the glass shard and Stan's hand now covered in blood.

Henry had felt horrified. How could someone so petite have an ungodly amount of strength? Enough to keep him down with one hand and make such a foul cut on him? He scooted back, he felt betrayed by everyone. He wouldn't attack Stan because truly it wasn't really his fault, but also because he was starting to fear him. He was starting to get antsy sitting there with him. Bowers just stared wide-eyed at the Stan, he couldn't even find words to describe what he was feeling. Before he could scoot off and run, Stan started speaking again. 

"Do you believe in God, Henry?" 

A moment of silence. 

"Yeah. What about it?" 

"Many believe fate is the book that we live in. That God wrote our story for us. But it simply isn't true. God is more like...mmmm...an editor, if you will. He gives an outline to yr story...But in the end," Stan pointed the stained glass piece towards Henry, " _you_ hold the pencil. Sometimes if you slack like you are now, someone else takes that pencil and writes it for you. And I suggest you pick up that fucking pencil soon Bowers, or you'll find that wound I just gave you will reopen for good. But that time, you wont get a speech from me. Oh, I know exactly who will come for you when it's reopened again Henry." He lowered the shard. 

Henry felt his breath caught in his throat. "But...when! When is this!? What do you mean! Tell me!" His voice was frantic and scared rather than angry. He wanted an answer, he wanted to know what the fuck this meant. "Tell me...please...It's my future right? Don't you want me to know my own future?" He asked then, his voice high pitched, his words nothing more than a plea. Stan looked down on him, his eyes shining...

"I'll see you in twenty seven years, Henry. I'll really see if you ever started to write yr own story." 


	3. He's funny like that (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Stan do their best to figure out what being in a relationship even means. It gets a little steamy. 
> 
> BILL'S POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody loves the gay including me :,) I like this ship a lot, it's my favourite I think. I really enjoy writing it. Stan is a fun character to write as well...Stan and Bill were both batshit insane in the book. That's something I can pull off LMAO
> 
> Will hopefully do a Reddie story soon. We'll see how I feel about it,,if you want me too I'll maybe do a vote for plot. If you want it to be fluff or smut just leave a comment. You know I crave attention from people...that and writers block

I woke up wrapped in Stan's arms. It was kinda funny honestly- He used to be shorter than most of us except Eddie and maybe Ben, but now he was taller than me. He certainly hit a growth spurt alright. He was still slim though, he kept his petite frame. It was cute honestly, maybe even more than that. They say the word for that is "sexy" but I don't like that word. I'll just go ahead and say he's fucking hot. It was funny to me how he changed so much but at the same time didn't really change at all. I guess the word I'm looking for his matured. Yeah, he matured, that's what I mean. When we were twelve I thought he was pretty cute. I wanted to hold his hand and maybe even kiss him. How daring, I know. But now, I want to do that still and more. I most certainly want to kiss him, that's for sure...I still want more than that. I think this overwhelming desire for something intimate is a teenager thing. You know how teenagers are, they're horny 24/7. It didn't really feel like that with him though. It wasn't like a primitive "oh he's hot, kinda wanna fuck" feeling. It was more like a "I want to take care of this person and love him and make him feel good" sort of feeling. I didn't see Stan smile much anymore these days. Not that he really smiled much even when we were kids, but you know. He smiles with his eyes, and when you look at him you can tell he's happy, even if it looks like he's bored out of his mind. But I don't see much of that now, and that made me sad. He loves me back, and that's a wonderful feeling. Maybe this way I can get a bit more handsy and get away with it. I'm not gonna press my luck, I'm gonna be careful. But I'm gonna do more than I could have before. I know that right now I just want him to feel good. 

He was still asleep when I woke up. I didn't really wanna move too much because I didn't want to wake him. Stan had always bordered on being a light sleeper and being able to sleep through the rapture. It was truly a gamble with him, and I really didn't want to take any chances. He seemed a lot more tired now, and I didn't want to disturb him. He means the world to me, and I really don't want to fuck it up. I'm overthinking though, I don't think me moving and him waking up is gonna make him loose feelings for me, but I don't want him to wake up being disgruntled. I hate it when he's like that, he doesn't talk and he doesn't show any emotion at all almost. It's just a mild annoyance, like I'd just spilled something. Instead I just kind of watched him sleep. In movies they make it seem like it's some super romantic thing, watching yr partner sleep, but I felt like I was being creepy. I did my best to worm out of his grasp, and luckily I didn't wake him up. I guess he's having a pretty intense dream, either that or I'm a lot more careful than I think. I didn't really know what I was gonna do now, but I never really did when I woke up before him. I've slept over at his house plenty of times, and when I woke up I never knew what to do. So I just did what I always have done and just sat my ass down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling until he woke up. 

I felt like I was dozing back off when I had heard a rustling from the bed, followed by a small groan. I turned around an lo and behold Stan had finally woken up. He had a disoriented look for a moment, but it faded soon. "Bill..." He murmured, closing his eyes again, "you...always sat yr ass on the floor when you woke up before me..." Followed by dry laughter. I laughed too. I mean, he wasn't wrong. I crawled back up onto the bed, sitting next to him. He always took a long time to be fully awake, so I'd just have to wait a bit longer. At least he was somewhat coherent and I could talk to him. I bit my lip, meaning to ask a question I hadn't asked the night prior. Or I guess, earlier in the day. "So uhm...are we like...a _thing?_ " I asked him. He grunted and weakly grabbed at me, his hand finally finding purchase on my shirt. "Uhhhh. No. Not yet." He paused, putting his forearm over his eyes, "Will you go out with me?" 

I felt my cheeks flush. I don't know why I was feeling surprise, I figured it was gonna happen. "Yes...OBVIOUSLY-" I said, but my voice was little more than just a whisper. He uncovered his eyes and looked up at me. He was actually smiling this time- and it was cute. He heaved himself up into a sitting position, bending his back and cracking it loudly. "That's fucking gross Stan-" I said, nudging him. I was smiling, I hadn't smiled like that in a long time. "Ohoho I can do it with every other bone in my body too," Stan said, leaning backwards on me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. And obviously I was starting to think about him like _that_ again, I was a teenage boy in love after all. I took a deep breath internally and slowly moved my hands downward. I was going slow mostly just because it would give Stan some time to say _cut the shit Texas ranger_ , but also because it was a pretty safe assumption that he hadn't been touched by someone else before. Even if he does want this, I doubt he's going to appreciate it much if I just full on grope him without warning. _Intimacy etiquette,_ I thought to myself, and tried to steady my hands. I don't think he's really expecting me to be super confident, but I don't want to be shaking like I have Parkinsons. 

He didn't make any signs that he wanted me to stop, so I ended up resting my hands on his inner thighs. I just kind of sat like that for a long time, because in truth I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. We both didn't say anything though, so I guess I was doing a pretty good job. "Um...Stan...I duh-don't ruh-really know what I'm duh-doing..." I murmured to him. "Just...do whatever," Stan said, "you know. What feels natural. Just try not to get any smart ideas and grab me so hard I bruise." Normally that would have sounded like he was teasing me, but his voice was soft. He just didn't want to end up with a bruise after it, and that was reasonable enough. Imagine that, the first time yr touched by someone and they leave bruises. I guess that wouldn't look very good. I just nodded absently, trying to just not think at all. I'll just do what feels right, and hopefully it'll feel right to him too. Mindlessly I ran my fingers over his inner thighs, which was greeted with a soft whimper. That's a good sign, a soft spot...I'll have to remember that. 

It didn't go any farther than that. I'm pretty sure both of us were afraid of doing anything more, so we didn't. Not right then anyway. We would some other time, maybe later in the day. I just hoped it would be soon. I liked hearing his whimpering, it meant I was doing something right. That and well...you know. 


End file.
